Dressed in a cutesy off-the-shoulder top sprinkled with roses and vines along with my buttery soft flared jeans was fun for celebrating inside the house but I’d forgotten my warm coat and the winter air cut through my flimsy clothing choices. Still, I laid on the ground and counted the stars in the crisp night sky.
“Shooting stars,” I sang into the wind. “Pretty stars.”
“Are you drunk?” Aaron, my smoking hot Australian neighbor called over the fence.
“Where’s your jacket?”
“I don’t know.” I giggled as his handsome face came into view. He reached me impossibly fast, or my sense of time was off. Several stray locks of his golden blond hair fell over one eye and I tucked one of them behind his ear. “Hi.”
“Hello, sweetheart. It’s freezing. Let’s get you inside.” He offered his palms to me but once I tipped upright, colors swam in front of my eyes, and I teetered. Without missing a beat, Aaron swept me up in his arms. “Got you.”
“Am I your parting gift for the night?” I nuzzled against his chest as he carried me into the house.
“No. You’re more than just a lovely prize,” Aaron chuckled.
Tugging several blankets off the top of my couch, he wrapped them around me along with his body. The icy cold dissipated and I was left with a warm afterglow.
“I’m already feeling better.”
“Good. Next time you decide to drink heavily in the middle of winter, please promise me you’ll stay inside.”
“You can’t actually get sick from cold weather,” I replied smartly.
“No, but if you don’t bundle up your limbs are exposed. We don’t need frostbitten fingers.” He rubbed each of my hands in his.
“I’ll do as you’ve asked, Aaron. But this year sucked. I was trying to take my mind off it.”
“Why did this year suck?”
Aaron was so busy at work that we hadn’t spent much time together, but I didn’t want to make him feel guilty. He was one of my closest friends, but his job ran him ragged and limited our time together. We cuddled when watching movies, at least a few times a month, but never kissed. I had a crush on the handsome doctor, and our connection was palpable. I longed to be in a relationship with him but had not gotten the nerve to tell him my thoughts.
“Well, I was super single this whole year. Whenever I decided I didn’t want to be single there were no opportunities for me not to be.”
“Right.” He laughed. “Where did you search for opportunities, sweetheart?” Aaron tucked my hand into the cocoon of blankets.
“I sorta didn’t actually put in any effort.” My stomach grumbled its unhappiness with the alcohol combinations I’d fed it earlier. Shooting vodka didn’t usually mess me up, but my intention had been to numb my emotions after another year of being alone.
“Look, it’s almost midnight.” Aaron gestured toward the television screen interrupting the line of conversation and focusing on the positive. “Did you make a resolution for this year?”
“To do more things that scare me.”
“An excellent resolution.”
“What about you, Aaron?”
“To create a better work–life balance.”
For some reason I pictured him balancing on a tightrope with a stethoscope in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. He gave off the daddy vibes I’d been dreaming of for a while, but the mental image left me sad.
“We could all use balance,” I muttered, unsure of what else to say. If I flipped through a dictionary and pulled up the word workaholic, Aaron’s handsome face would be plastered there like some sort of poster child.
The huge lighted ball dropped on the television screen, signaling the end of the current year and the beginning of the next. It was a chance to change the course I’d been pursuing or lack of it and follow my dreams wherever they led me. Aaron cupped my cheek as the strains of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ played in the background.
He licked his lips, and I promptly gagged. Extracting myself from his embrace, I covered my mouth with my hands and rushed as fast as my drunk ass would take me, hauling off to the bathroom. I didn’t have time to explain, but he would undoubtedly understand my sudden issue.
Zoelle, my sexy next-door neighbor who I’d been crushing on since I met her, bolted off the couch, repulsed by my advance. She drank alcohol tonight, but despite a few slurred words she hadn’t seemed that out of it. No, I deduced the wrong conclusion because my own head wasn’t completely sober. The alcohol had turned her stomach, not my touches. What a lousy doctor I was, caught up in my own feelings instead of checking on her.
Making my way to the bathroom, I tapped on the door. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Do you need some medical assistance?”
“Uh. Maybe. Do you know anyone who could help?” Zoelle cracked the door open and peeked through. She had pulled her golden brown hair away from her face into a messy bun. Tiny tendrils escaped from the confines of the elastic band, but my gaze drifted lower to her supple breasts that begged to be caressed through her off-the-shoulder top. I forced my eyes away from the sweet temptation of her body to find two cognac-brown eyes fixed on mine. I shifted slightly, hoping to kill the raging erection pressed against my jeans, but nothing short of grim thoughts or a long shower would work to control it.
Carrying her out from the backyard, I held her close to me, breathing in the sweet scent of her along with the mixed floral perfume—rose and something warm like amber—teasing my senses. I wanted to taste her. I forced a pause and reminded myself about her queasy stomach. It was not the optimal time to think about kissing someone.
“I’ve picked up some tricks in my spin through the emergency department,” I offered. “Give me your hands and I’ll show you.” Zoelle held them out toward me as she entered the hallway. I checked her pulse subtly, verifying that she wasn’t having a bigger medical issue, and pressed my thumb on an acupressure point to quell her nausea. It might not work since she’d imbibed, but it was worth a try. She visibly relaxed. I repeated the gesture on her left wrist.
“My stomach is a little better.”
“Would you like me to stay?” I released her hands. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”
“Yeah, Aaron. Thanks.” She side-eyed me as I led her to her bedroom. “You can sleep in here if you want. I mean we’re both adults.”
“I’ll be fine in the living room,” I assured her. I didn’t want to lie next to her all night under the guise of just being friends. No. When she invited me into her bed, I wanted it to be clear that we were together, otherwise it wouldn’t happen at all. “If you need anything, just shout. I’m a light sleeper from years on call overnight at the hospital.”
“Thanks,” she repeated. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.”
Heading to the couch, I wrapped up in the blankets that held a lingering fruity aroma, the scent of her perfume. It reminded me of her, and I wished my arms were around her instead of a throw pillow. I was serious about my resolution. I had let the two of us hang in a state of limbo without speaking to her about the possibility of a relationship. No. I wouldn’t allow the opportunity to pass again if I could help it.
Sighing, I rolled onto my side. My sweet neighbor had a sassy, flirty attitude that attracted me to her. We already had so much fun together, but I’d also seen glimpses of her that made me believe we were compatible in ways we hadn’t yet discussed.
Zoelle liked when I made decisions, simple ones like what movie we’d watch, or where we’d order takeout, but her entire disposition changed after those moments. She seemed more relaxed and happier. I’d bet money that she was submissive.
It was time to make her mine.
One month later
I was curled up in a ball with blankets half strewn on my floor and couch from the constant tossing and turning. My throat burned on top of the dull ache and I was exhausted. I alternated being too hot then cold the past few hours, and my extremities felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. I thought about texting Aaron and asking for his professional medical opinion, but we hadn’t seen or talked to each other much.
We had yet to sort out the ‘almost kiss’ from New Year’s Eve, and it still lingered at the forefront of my mind. My thoughts drifted to the imagery of him examining me, touching my intimate places as he checked me out thoroughly. I trailed my fingers across each of my breasts, pinching my nipples through my tee-shirt, wishing they were being touched by his skilled hands. The mental images aroused me, and I arched my hips to gain better access but soon the actions left me more tired, and I stopped fantasizing.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the backdoor to my house. Only Aaron and sometimes an errant package delivery person utilized that entrance.
If it was Aaron, he would know immediately that something was bothering me and most likely try to diagnose my illness. Groaning, I rose to my feet, tightened the belt around my fluffy pink bathrobe and padded off. I opened the door without looking through the peephole and came face to face with Dr. Sexy Scrubs himself.
He wore cobalt blue scrubs the same shade as his eyes. A stethoscope hung around his neck, but I couldn’t tell if he was headed to work or just coming off shift. Aaron pressed the back of his hand to my head, but I stepped out of his reach to prevent a further assessment.
“Are you sick, Zoelle?”
“Yeah.” Given what I’d been imagining him doing to me, I’d bet my cheeks were flushed. He entered without an invitation and shut the door behind him. His arrival pointed in the direction of an unsolicited house call. “Did you need something?”
“No, not exactly. I haven’t seen you in a few days, so I stopped by. What’s bothering you?”
“My throat mostly. My head. The rest of me.” I shrugged as he glanced over my body.
“You should make an appointment with your doctor. You don’t look so well.”
“I don’t have a doctor,” I admitted sheepishly. “Medical people, uh, scare me.”
“You promised to do more things that scare you.”
“It’s probably just a cold or something, Aaron.”
“Do you own a thermometer?”
Why did I say that?
I didn’t own the style of thermometer typically used on an adult, just my fantasy-fueled one with the pretty pear-shaped bulb designed for somewhere other than my mouth. I seldom engaged in solo play with it, instead hoping one day I’d find someone who’d be willing to use it on me for fun.
“Do you have one or not?”
“Go get it. If you have a fever, you’re going to the clinic.”
“I don’t know where it is.”
Aaron sighed. “Find it.”
I shuffled to my bedroom, dragging my feet. His bossy tone shot straight to my pussy. How could I return with the red-cased thermometer without being mortified? His thoughts wouldn’t jump to some sort of medical fantasy the way mine did. I fumbled around in my room for five solid minutes, pretending that I didn’t know exactly where the thermometer lived, and grabbed it along with a jar of Vaseline.
Returning to the living room, I saw Aaron leaning against the mantel of the fireplace. He raised his eyebrows as I set the items down on my coffee table but did not make a smartass comment. Instead, he crossed the space in several quick strides. My mouth watered at the realization my long thought about fantasy was about to be enacted. Granted, it was for a real medical purpose, but the thought caused thrills to run through my body all the same.
“It was the only one I could find,” I offered. It was a lame explanation.
“I don’t care where the thermometer goes at long as it gets a reading. This way is more accurate anyhow.” He opened the case and shook down the thermometer with three fast snaps of his wrist. Quickly unscrewing the jar’s lid, he dipped the glass rod into the thick ointment. “Roll over.”
“This isn’t some secret fantasy.” I forced a laugh, but it was strained.
“Obviously not or you’d be more cooperative.”
“Unless being made to submit is part of the fun.” I glanced up at my ceiling as if I had an escape hatch ready to suck me up from the couch to transport me out of awkward conversations. I grabbed a water bottle from the coffee table, the one I’d been sipping on and off, and downed a few swallows, my mouth suddenly parched. I winced from the flare of pain.
“If your throat is hurting you that much, you might have strep, sweetheart.”
“I’m not that sick.”
“Lie down and lower your pants.”
Grumbling, but secretly aroused, I shifted onto my stomach and arranged my clothes to give him the access he demanded, making a show of tugging down my pajama bottoms followed by my barely there hipster panties. “I probably don’t even have a fever.”
“It doesn’t hurt to check.” He spread my cheeks, exposing my most private hole. Aaron inserted the cold glass instrument and I squirmed from the intrusion. “Relax. It’ll only be a minute.”
Except it would take closer to three minutes for my temperature to register. I had no doubt he would leave it in for the full amount of time. “People don’t have these sorts of fantasies anyhow.”
“Some people do.”
“Nah. I’d rather be the one wielding the instrument.”
“Oh.” I ground my hips into the cushions, trying to find a position where I couldn’t feel the instrument inside of me. He tightened his grip on the stem of the intruding rod.
“Stop wiggling, Zoelle, or I’ll hold you across my lap to ensure you don’t move.”
“Makes me want to wiggle more.”
“I’ve told you how I’ll respond.”
Something about his tone pushed me to stay still, though my thoughts drifted to the possibility of his finger stroking my heated pussy, even though I knew he wouldn’t. “Can you please take it out?”
“Why did you almost kiss me on New Year’s Eve and then never bring it up again?”
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
“Uh, seriously?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Have you been living under a rock?”
“No, but I’ve been so busy at work, and it made it easier to avoid the topic. I should have checked in with you sooner. Will you please forgive me for misreading your reaction?”
“Of course.” I faced forward. “Can you remove the thermometer now?”
“I will after it registers.”
I stayed quiet, wanting the whole ordeal to be done with. Bringing up the topic that had been on my mind for weeks embarrassed me almost as much as him seeing my private places. I wanted him to leave to stop the sudden arousal burning through my body. After what felt like longer than the required time, Aaron removed the slim rod and I shuddered. “Do I have a fever?”
“Yup. All the way up to one-hundred three point four. No wonder you feel so awful.”
I fixed my pants into place and rolled onto my back. “Makes sense,” I agreed. He set the glass object on the coffee table.
“Let’s go into the kitchen, sweetheart. There’s more light in there.”
I reluctantly followed him, and he lifted me onto the counter. Aaron listened to my lungs, my heart, and ran his hands over my neck.
“Do you have popsicle sticks?”
“How about actual popsicles?”
“No,” I said, giggling.
“Let’s see what else I can find.” Aaron poked through my kitchen cabinets and drawers and returned to my side with a very small spatula. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
I quirked an eyebrow but did as he requested. He was so smart; the plastic tip of the spatula pressed against my tongue, and he shined a penlight into my mouth. After a few seconds of looking down my throat, he placed the penlight into his pocket and moved to my sink. “Anything interesting?”
“My money’s on strep.” Washing the spatula quickly, he set it in the dish drain and dried his hands.
“What’s my prize?”
“You get to visit me at work. Strep equals antibiotics but you need a culture to verify.” He smiled, but I wasn’t happy with that news. “I’ll be in by four. The clinic is at 357 Main Street. Are you well enough to drive?”
“Yeah, I’m not dizzy, just tired and sore.” I bit down on my lip as I stared. He appeared extra handsome as he rubbed my shoulder. “Thanks for checking on me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Goodbye…” I led him to the backdoor and locked it behind him.
My sexy friend had checked my temperature in the most embarrassing way possible and I had hinted at the whole procedure being part of a bigger fantasy. Why had I shared so much with him? I closed my eyes as a wave of embarrassment crashed over me.
I’d never be able to look him in the face again.
I stepped into the shower for the second time. After playing doctor with my sweet next-door neighbor, it was the best cure for my raging erection. I played the action in my head on repeat but changed the ending. I wasn’t a horndog when it came to actual medical procedures, but I’d wanted to touch her naughty bits for far longer than she probably realized. When she’d returned from her room with a rectal thermometer, it had been all I could do to force my professional side out. I stroked my cock as I imagined sliding my fingers into her pussy while I twirled the glass rod in her asshole, bringing her to her peak from the combination of sensations. In my fantasy, after I checked her temperature, which was normal, I spanked her wiggling cheeks until they pinkened under my hands. Once every inch of her round bottom glowed from my correction, I’d claim the tight ring of her ass with my cock.
I braced against the wall for support and came hard thinking about the way she’d sound screaming my name as I took her in her most private hole.
I drained the last of the hot water and twirled the knobs, shutting off the stream. I promised myself to create a better work–life balance and that path started with Zoelle.
Somehow, I’d convince her that I could fill all the roles she wanted and needed. I thought she was upset at me for trying to kiss her. I allowed myself to believe that it was whatever cocktails she’d been drinking instead of talking to her.
No matter. I’d make it up to her, and then we’d see if we could make a relationship work.
I arrived at the clinic somewhere after four as Dr. Sexy Scrubs demanded. I wasn’t looking forward to getting poked and prodded, not even by him, but I was tired of feeling sick and sick of feeling miserable.
A nurse ushered me into one of the exam rooms, checked my vitals quickly, and blew out of there as if she had better things to do. I leaned against the table, exhausted. I should have changed my clothes, but back at the house the mere thought of doing such a simple task drained my energy.
Two raps sounded on the door and my sexy neighbor entered.
“Hi, I’m Dr. York.” He closed the door behind him, engrossed in the chart in his hand. Aaron had changed into navy scrubs and they looked just as good as the other pair. I wondered how many sets of scrubs he owned and if they were all different colors. Aaron held out his hand to greet me and the gesture pulled me out of my silly thoughts.
“I can read your name tag.” I shook his hand as if we weren’t familiar.
“Zoelle.” His mouth quirked into a smile. “Did you take any medication after I left?”
“You had a significant fever a few hours ago.” He reached over to the wall, pulled out a long probe, and stuck a cover on it. “This goes under your tongue.”
“I can find a different one if you’d like.”
He cocked an eyebrow and the gesture tempted me to find out if he was bluffing. I was almost certain red-cased thermometers weren’t readily available but on the off chance that he found one, I didn’t need to be probed again.
“I was kidding.”
“I doubt it.” He winked.
I did as he asked, but tears began to fall down my cheeks from the awful anxiety pinching my stomach. The box on the wall beeped.
“Still lower than it was at your house, but higher than what is written on your chart.” He handed me a tissue. “What’s upsetting you?”
“I’m sorry.” I dabbed at my face. “I just want to go home.”
“I’m proud of you for being so brave. We’ll be done soon.” Aaron pressed a button on the probe and shot the cover into the trash. For some reason, the idea of doctors and nurses making a game of shooting the plastic sheaths into garbage cans made the tears stop and my fear ease. His calm bedside manner helped as well. “The nurse didn’t place it under your tongue at all, did she?”
“No. She placed it inside my mouth.”
“That explains the lower temp.” He ran his hands over my neck and throat like he had done earlier, then listened to my lungs and stomach with the stethoscope. “I’ll be sure to bring up to the nurse the importance of obtaining accurate vitals.”
Despite the pain and overall unease about being in a doctor’s office, the thought of him touching more intimate places caused arousal to burn through me, just as it had earlier. “Please don’t get another thermometer.”
“All right, but then you’ve got to check it before bed and text me the reading.”
“I don’t want to.”
Aaron shot me a look, no doubt the one he reserved for his difficult patients, and he fixed the stethoscope around his neck. “If you refuse, I’ll come over tonight and check it myself.” His mouth twitched.
I dug a pen out of my purse and popped the top. I wrote refused in big bubble letters on the paper covering the table along with my initials. His gorgeous eyes were nearly sapphire, and I had a weird thought: Aaron enjoyed taking care of me even though it had involved a small glass rod and my naughtiest hole.
“Got it.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Is anything else bothering you today?”
“I, um, haven’t had a physical in years.”
“My colleague Dr. Baldwin is amazing. She’s accepting new patients. I’ll get you her contact info before you leave.”
“I don’t know her. Will you be my doctor?”
“Doctors can’t date their patients, Zoelle.”
“We’re not dating.”
His growled words rendered me speechless, leaving me staring, mesmerized, at his chiseled cheekbones, the cute dimple in his chin. Aaron York, sexiest doctor alive, hinted at dating me for real. “So, a more thorough exam is out of the question?”
“I never said that.” Aaron leaned close to my ear, so close that I could feel his hot breath against my skin. “If I were to examine you, Zoelle, it would be far, far away from here.”
I imagined him saying such things to me in the privacy of my own room while I played with my clit but to hear his growly, rumbling voice in person dampened my panties in an instant. I subtly shifted but was again at a loss for words. He was close enough to kiss me, not recommended if I was contagious, but the thought pinged around my brain. Could Aaron be into the kinkier side of BDSM to include… naughty medical play? My thoughts raced with the possibilities.
“Once you’re well—but that’s a discussion for a later time.” Aaron removed a long Q-tip, pointing it at me. “Open your mouth.”
“You’ve said that several times today, but not for anything fun.” I gave him the access he needed and he took a sample from the inside of my throat. His eyes shone mischievously probably from my tongue-in-cheek humor. I gagged, and he pulled the swab out, stuck it into a tube, and closed the top.
“I’m sorry that was uncomfortable. We should have an answer in about ten minutes.” He wrote something on the tube and pocketed it. “I’ll be back in a few.”
After my third spin around the tiny exam space, I resigned myself to lying on the table. I envisioned Aaron’s nimble fingers undressing me, sliding my feet into two stirrups in order to touch all of my intimate places without restrictions. Fantasy Zoelle couldn’t stay still while he stroked my private spots, and he restrained me to guarantee my compliance. I pressed my thighs together as if I could quell the arousal burning through me, but it made no difference. Aaron turned me on even when I was sick.
One knock rapped somewhere outside the room. Dr. Sexy Scrubs strolled in, pulling the door shut to ensure privacy. “It’s strep,” he announced as if it were the most obvious diagnosis in the world. “Typical treatment is ten days of antibiotics, but the pills are quite large.”
“I have a really hard time swallowing pills. Even small ones.”
“It’s too risky to send you home with a prescription you might not complete.”
“What’s my other option?”
“As long as you’re not allergic to anything, I can give you a shot of Bicillin L-A, which is a strong antibiotic.”
“I’m not allergic to anything, but can I drink the medication instead?” I tore little bits of paper off the covering, needing to keep my hands busy. “When I was younger there was this pink stuff I’d drink when I got sick. I think we kept it in the fridge.”
“Amoxicillin, but that’s a pediatric dosage. You need the big guns, Zoelle.” He leaned his back against the exam table and caught my gaze. “I promise I’m a good stick.”
“I bet you are.”
“The medication is thick. It needs to go in at a slow rate, which takes a bit longer to administer, but it works wonders or I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“Do you use a bigger needle?”
“Yes, but size doesn’t matter when you know what you’re doing.” He tapped my hip. “Roll onto your side, pull down your pants, and bring your knees up to your chest.”
Aaron had already prepared the damn injection before I agreed. I blinked up at him, buying time. “I don’t like needles.”
“Come on, be a good girl for me. The faster we do this, the faster you’ll feel better.”
My mouth fell open and closed like a fish out of water. The idea of becoming Aaron’s good girl paired with his gentle urging pushed me to get into the position he’d requested. He swiped an alcohol pad over a spot high on my ass.
“Take a deep breath and let it out, sweetheart. It’s a big pinch and a wicked sting.”
As I exhaled, the needle plunged into me, and it hurt worse than any other injection I remembered. Aaron had a skilled, steady hand, but it felt like he stuck me with a meat thermometer instead of a regular-sized needle. “Ouch!”
“Another deep breath, Zoelle.” He breathed in, which prompted me to follow his pattern. “Let it out slowly.”
I did my best not to cry.
“Breathe.” He pushed the plunger and a terrible burning pain lit into the muscle of my ass. “In and out.”
“Ow, ow!” I stayed as still as stone, but the burning intensified. “It hurts so much!”
“We’re almost done. Deep breath in.” His voice calmed and soothed as much as it could have, given the situation. “Let it out. Keep breathing. You’re going to feel like a million bucks.”
I sniffled, hating the pain, but I loved his attention. The medication continued to burn but I matched his breathing patterns and the pain lessened as he timed the medication around the exhale. Aaron treated me better than all the other doctors in my life, which helped me to relax. “It still hurts.”
“We’re done.” He withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball against the wound.
“I don’t hear that a lot,” he said, chuckling. “Your symptoms should improve within twenty-four hours. If they don’t—or you feel worse—you need to come in again.” He applied a bandage and moved away from the bed. “Stay like that another minute.”
“I’m really not used to other people taking care of me.” I reached behind me and tugged up my panties and pajama pants.
“I hope it’s something you’ll trust me with, unless my error has caused you to lose faith in my ability to do so.”
“No.” I flipped around into a sitting position, but it caused a terrible head rush and I pressed my hands to either side of my head. “Ow!”
“Lie down again.” Aaron helped me shift around and rolled something under my legs. “Elevating your feet will get blood back to your head and stop the pain.”
“How did you get so smart?”
“College followed by four years of medical school and four years of residency.”
“Sounds difficult.” I stared up into his face. “To get back to what you said, I trust you, Aaron, or I wouldn’t have come here no matter how sick I was.”
“I’ll take you at your word.” He checked my pulse and offered his hand. “Sit up slowly.”
As I rose up, I couldn’t help but stare at him the entire time, the intensity in his gaze causing goosebumps to prickle down my neck. The desire to kiss him returned, but I made a mental note to make his favorite red velvet brownies when I was feeling better as my way of repaying his kindness. “I’m going to replay this whole day in my head over and over again.”
He licked his lips as if some filthy thought played across his head, but the rest of his expression stayed professional. “What time do you normally go to bed?”
“Uh, well, I don’t have a daddy setting a bedtime for me.” I clapped my hands over my mouth to stop anything else from falling out.
Why did I say that?
No, we weren’t getting into the other stuff I was into, namely a stern daddy who set bedtimes along with other rules. I shared enough of my desires for one day.
“You are utterly adorable, sweetheart.”
His Australian accent sounded thicker with that one phrase and it melted my insides. He grew up mostly in London and Boston, staying with host families so his accent was less pronounced than someone who lived there all his life, but his tone turned me into a melty pile of goo all the same.
I slid off the table, needing to put distance between us. “I should probably go to bed earlier than I normally do.”
“Yes, you should. Why don’t I stop by around eight?”
“Two house calls in one day? Lucky me.”
“I want you to feel better.”
“Yeah, I’ll be home,” I mused. But we both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’ll see you then. Be sure to take all the paperwork. I included Dr. Baldwin’s information. She is across the street, so be sure to call her and get an appointment for a physical and a Pap. I have a feeling you haven’t kept up with any of your annual tests.”
“Oh.” I dropped my gaze from his watchful stare. He knew me—and my neglectful tendencies when it came to myself and my needs—all too well.
“I sent her a message already. She’s expecting a call.”
“I’ll get around to it eventually.” I raised my head, mesmerized by the two deep blue eyes locked on mine. I could stare into them all day if he let me, but his scrutiny left me vulnerable.
“You should get around to it sooner rather than later.” Aaron waggled his eyebrows and I couldn’t help but smile. He cared about my health more than I did. “Once you meet her, I’m fairly certain you’ll look forward to regular visits. She’s absolutely wonderful with patients of all ages, but her specialty is with someone like you—a person who’s dealt with bad experiences.”
“Thanks, Aaron.” I stared at him for a moment, stunned at how today had unfolded. He had been thinking about me as much as I had been thinking about him. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He reached around me and twirled open the door. His arm brushed mine as he straightened to allow me to leave first. “Feel better.”
I took a bath when I got home from the clinic and paid extra attention to my lady bush, which had been getting out of control as of late. I wasn’t feeling well enough to do anything about my legs or any other parts of me that needed shaving, but at least I had trimmed and moisturized. I had challenged Aaron at the office, but I wasn’t entirely convinced he would come over again. I’d already seen him more times in one day than I had in the past month.
Two knocks sounded at my backdoor at eight o’clock on the dot. I answered the door feeling much better than I had that afternoon. His scrubs had been replaced with a brown leather jacket, blue long-sleeve shirt, black jeans and sneakers. He looked good enough to eat and my mouth watered at the sight. I wished my clothing choices had been more revealing than unicorn and rainbow pajama bottoms paired with a bright pink camisole. At least my panties matched the outfit. Aaron promised in no uncertain terms that he would be checking my temperature in the same way he had done earlier and I selected my favorite panties, pink with polka dots, to highlight the area he’d be getting intimate with. “Hey, Aaron.”
“Hi.” He came inside and I locked the door behind us. “Are you feeling any better?”
“A little bit. How was the rest of your day?”
“Not as fun as the first part.” He pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “You still feel warm. Let’s see if your fever’s gone down, and then we can talk.”
“We don’t have to check it,” I stammered out. I had been quite bold in his office, but I wasn’t feeling so brave with him standing in my kitchen.
“You had the option to check it yourself and you refused. Remember?”
I pouted at him and stomped my right foot. Aaron had a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed my posture. “But I feel better.”
“Let’s go, little girl.” He stepped around me. “No more stalling.”
I chewed on my cuticles and reluctantly followed. I admired the way he handled the situation, keeping his promise from earlier, but the thought of him taking my temperature a second time brought a new swarm of butterflies to my belly. He seemed to have that Daddy tendency I sought for so long, but never found—and I had no idea what to do with that information.
My sexy doctor next door just might be the daddy I’ve been looking for.